


Two Hearts Beating as One

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Drama & Romance, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Reunions, Soulmates, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 13:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Chaos and Mantaro lived years apart.The decades held them at a distance, even as their hearts longed for one another, but Chaos would wait. He knew that time could not keep them apart, and - one day - they would be reunited once more. As the years go by, Chaos wonders whether Mantaro will still remember him . . . still want him . . . stilllovehim.
Relationships: Kinniku Mantaro & Terry the Kid, Kinniku Mantaro/Chaos Avenir, Mari Nikaido & Chaos Avenir
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Two Hearts Beating as One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [0_MERCY_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_MERCY_0/gifts).

_‘Is – Is this okay?’_

_Chaos gasped. The darkness of the room was broken only by a sliver of light, which broke through the gap in the curtains and cast itself over the futon. It drew a long line from the swell of pert and plump buttocks, up along the curve of his back, and stopped just above his blue eyes, which sparkled under the moonlight. There was a blush to his cheeks. The fin of his mask was long discarded, while the rubber was rolled and bunched around his nose. _

_A smile broke across Chaos, as he ran his hands though brown locks of hair. It was soft to the touch, parting like silk or satin against his callused fingers, and a scent of apples and cinnamon wafted out when Chaos pressed his nose or lips to soft temples. He parted his legs. Mantaro fell into place between them like they were made for one another, with the hard and sculpted chest pressed against him. He stroked a long and gentle line along those ribs, beneath the tuft of armpit hair, and around to his chest . . . Chaos rested his hand over his heart. _

_The quick beat matched the rhythm of Chaos’ heart. _

_He blinked back tears, while his arms wrapped around Mantaro. They pressed together their lips each breathing deep and sharing every breath, and neither one dared deepen the kiss, even as their hands roamed over every inch of exposed skin. The length of Mantaro’s member was warm, with the head leaking pre-come onto his abdomen. Chaos writhed. He swallowed hard and licked at his lips, as he bucked upwards and forced a soft mewl from Mantaro. _

_‘It feels okay,’ whispered Mantaro. ‘Doesn’t it?’_

_Chaos fell silent. Every beat of his heart pounded out an impossible rhythm. A sweat broke over his skin, causing him to stick to Mantaro and only adding to their heat, and arousal had his erection throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He smiled. A kiss followed, with soft and steady sounds of lips slipping against one another. . . a hint of tongue had Chaos pulling back with a desperate gasp, as he panted and licked at his lips with a loud moan. He choked out:_

_‘It feels great, Mantaro. It’s perfect.’_

_* * *_

The planet was barren. There was nothing but rocky landscapes. A cold wind brushed over the dirt and dust, blowing small clouds over his boots and unitard, and – with the brick building at his back – a paradoxical sense of claustrophobia caused his stomach to knot. Mantaro clasped his hands behind his neck. He leaned against the Hercules Factory, while his eyes darted to the far left at the rings that for once stood empty . . . no trainers, no students . . .

A tilt of his head revealed the vast array of stars above, but the constellations were not right for this time of year . . . nothing like what his dad taught him, nothing like his uncle showed him . . . just strange combinations of stars and planets of an unknown land. He closed his eyes. He counted to ten. In the main hall, he heard Robin laugh at some unheard joke. In the distance, he saw Buffaloman and Ramenman what he _hoped_ was sparring tucked behind the equipment shed. Mantaro cricked his neck with a sigh, when a voice said beside him:

“Ain’t ya meant to be training?”

Mantaro stood upright with a groan. He cricked his neck and back, while fighting back thoughts of his recent fourteenth birthday . . . waking up to soft sheets and breakfast in bed . . . it was a far cry from sharing a dormitory with a bunch of sweaty and hormonal teenagers. Kid slunk beside him with head held high, along with a bag of peanuts held tightly in his hand. The knuckles were white with the pressure of his grip. Mantaro stepped back, while he raked his eyes up and down the stockier form. Kid jerked his head and threw his arms wide. Mantaro winced.

“What’s it to you?” Mantaro asked.

“Yer meant to be asleep,” spat Kid. “I ain’t getting in trouble, just ‘cause you decided t’ sneak out o’ the dorms and act like a spoiled brat. You might’ve been able to do what you want in that fancy palace o’ yours, but here you ain’t no better than the rest of us! You’re slacking off in training, like you expect me to pick up the slack, and here ya are wide awake and –”

“What’s your problem? I haven’t done anything to you, Kid.”

“Nah, but you’ve hardly been a team-player, either!”

“I’ve been more a team-player than you.” Mantaro folded his arms. “Look, I was raised to be a prince, okay? I wasn’t raised to be a wrestler like you! My dad taught me the basics, sure, but most of what I learned was from Ramenman . . . even then, I think that was only because the d.M.p were attacking and they had no other choice . . . it’s a lot to catch up on!”

“You ain’t even trying! Yer just a damned spoiled brat.”

Mantaro clenched his fists. He puffed out his cheeks. A few tears pricked at his eyes, but he blinked them back and spun his head to the side. The only sound was a loud huff of breath, as the moonlight cast a soft glow about the landscape, and slow footsteps indicated that Robin was leading the guest outside . . . _‘we thought you were dead, old chap! If I knew you were alive, I’d have asked you here a lot sooner for a tour of the place’ _. . . Mantaro sighed. He spun around and pointed an accusing finger straight at Kid, as he said in a low and cold voice:

“Yeah, well, what are _you_ doing breaking curfew?”

“If you get punished, we _all_ get punished.”

Mantaro scoffed. He swung around, with his hands firmly on his hips. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, as managed to choke out a half-formed word, but – before he could expel more than a half-formed syllable – Kid yanked him hard by his wrist. Mantaro squeaked. The rough brick of the wall crashed against his back and scratched at his skin, and his head grew hazy from how hard it stuck against the school. He struggled to focus his gaze.

A few second passed, as they both stood crouched in an alcove. Kid brought a finger to his lips, as he gestured for silence, and – as Mantaro furrowed his brow and made to speak again – Kid rolled his eyes and jabbed him hard in the ribcage, before pointing over to the main doors. The reason was clear for their sudden hiding attempt. Robin walked out with a guest. He stood tall with his cape billowing out behind him, while the mask on his head glistened in the moonlight, and his callused hand rested on the shoulder of the man beside him. Mantaro hummed.

The other man looked familiar . . .

Mantaro blushed beneath his mask. The man could barely be much younger than their teachers, but his body was in pinnacle condition and bore defined muscles. He wore only a black pair of shorts and boots, as if he sought to emulate the fashion of those same older chojin, but his hair was long and blond and flowed perfectly over his back. Mantaro bit his lip. The other chojin turned and – with a double-take – waved a hand wildly in his direction, while he wore a smile so bright that Mantaro forgot all about the women in his magazines and swallowed hard. Kid asked:

“You know the old guy?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Mantaro. “He smiled like he knew me, though. I guess maybe he saw me on television or in some magazine, maybe? I don’t know, though . . . it’s like I _know_ him, like our souls are connected somehow, but how stupid is that, right? Weird. Way weird.”

“Aw, maybe it’s the red string of fate. Yer soul-mate is some old man!”

“Oh, bite me, you whiny-assed bi-”

_“Mantaro! Kid!”_

They both flinched and froze. The other man laughed loud and deep, as he joked something about how ‘some things never change’, and Kid shared a look with Mantaro, even as both stayed locked in the positions they had been when addressed from a distance . . . _‘I’m not a bloody bear, you twits! I can pissing see you, even if you don’t move’_! Robin came to stand before the man, where he placed fists on his hips and stood with legs apart. Mantaro leaned to the side, as he tried to look behind him to the almost recognisable figure, only for Robin to shout out:

“I want a hundred laps around the school, now!”

“Why?” Kid shouted. “I ain’t even –”

“You’re breaking curfew, too, Kid. Now get moving!”

They both fought to get past one another. After a series of slaps and insults, they managed to fall into a steady pace side by side, and the only sound was that of their loud footsteps, as they raced around the Hercules Factory at an increasing speed. Mantaro nearly tripped, as he tried to look behind him at the man who now headed towards the Hand of Hercules with Robin in tow. Kid dragged him back upright, before taking the chance to gain an advantage and get ahead.

“Bastard,” spat Kid.

* * *

_Darkness . . . _

_Chaos pushed upward. He only made it a few inches. A few choked and fast breaths escaped him, as his hands explored his surroundings . . . wood . . . cold . . . barely a few inches taller and wider than his body, just as if it were a . . . a coffin! No . . . no . . . Chaos pressed his lips closed, as he screwed shut his eyes and tried to calm. He needed to preserve oxygen. Fingertips on the wood above him revealed what felt like glass . . . a morbid window to six feet of dirt . . . _

_He prayed this was a shallow grave._

_Every beat of his heart echoed out loud, while the otherwise silence was too much . . . no background noise, no single sounds . . . he banged on the coffin. Nothing. He banged again. A rustling and hissing sound, as dirt slid in through the crack over his side. He closed his eyes to force back tears, but it was just as black . . . just as empty . . . they burned and trickled down into his hairline, where they vanished into the shadows. Chaos clawed until fingers bled. _

_No, he had to get out . . . had to escape . . . there was a blanket beneath him. He awkwardly pulled it around his head and tied it tight, so that the fabric fully covered his face, and – taking a few accidental deep breaths – shoved hard at the coffin. Dirt fell inside. He struggled to kick it down and compact it about his feet, as the lid slammed shut again beneath the pressure of dirt and debris. One more breath . . . just one . . . he pushed again. The dirt fell back inside. It trickled over the blanket about his face, almost as if it sort to suffocate him . . . _

_He lost track of how many shoves it took . . . push, dirt, kick . . . push, dirt, kick . . . soon there was a fair amount of dirt collected at the bottom of the coffin, so that his knees were bent and his legs were coming closer to his torso. How much air was left? Chaos swallowed a scream. He heaved one last large push, using his legs for leverage, while dirt crashed inside the coffin and covered every inch of his skin . . . he prayed enough was inside to make less on top . . . _

_There was no air left. _

_Chaos quickly clawed at the dirt, as the blanket stopped soil from entering his nose and mouth and provided the tiniest bit of air imaginable . . . soon his fingers met no resistance, but space . . . space . . . Chaos held back weeping sobs, as he fought through the soil ever more. Soon – with heaving gasps of breath – he was able to tear off the blanket and flinch away from the sun, as it burned his eyes and blinded him afresh . . . every gulp of air burned his lungs . . . he dragged himself out of his grave, where he tumbled onto the side of the headstone._

_He lay down. He lay prone and alone for seconds . . . minutes . . . perhaps hours . . . soon his eyes adjusted and Chaos looked down, where his body was covered in thick grime and soil and scratches and bruises from his escape. In the grave, there was a box of his kinkeshi collection. The headstone bore his name inscribed. Chaos struggled to his feet . . . weak and disorientated . . . he stumbled in a random direction . . . he stumbled home . . . _

* * *

“Hey, guess who won against Bone _freaking_ Cold!”

Mantaro waved high his lantern. The young woman rolled her eyes, before linking arms with her friend and walking at a quicker pace towards the _izakaya, _and Mantaro was left with his arm extended and the weight of the lantern straining at his wrist. He slowly dropped it to his side, while the smile faded from his face . . . his greatest victory and no one cared. A low sigh escaped his lips. He dropped his gaze and hunched his shoulders, while he stared at the street.

A low laugh escaped from Kid, who threw an arm around Mantaro. He pulled Mantaro close, before messing his hair with his knuckles, and followed by dragging him close to the others, as they wandered down the streets of _Kabukicho_. A burst of air clouded about his face, as he blew out into the cold night air with heavy pants. Seiuchin took the lantern from his hands, while offering him a scarf, and Gazelleman patted him on the back with a wink. The hustle-and-bustle of people echoed out about them, and Kid nudged him in the side and laughed out:

“Aw, shucks, you’ll bag an awesome gal next time!”

Mantaro shoved his hands into his pockets. He bit into his lip, while he dragged his feet. The artificial lights all bled together overhead, where they blocked out the sky and the stars, and yet – with a broken smile – Mantaro tilted back his head and searched for Planet Kinniku. If he were ever sad, his mother would sing him lullabies and his father would spar with him . . . here there was nothing but fake smiles and bad jokes. A chill ran through him. He shivered and wrapped the scarf tight around his neck and lower face, while he avoided their gazes.

“I don’t get it,” muttered Mantaro. “Kid gets women hanging off him, and Gazelleman has to beat them off with a stick, but . . . I won loads of matches and I won a tournament singlehanded and I trained my ass off to get to this point, but -! If my career record doesn’t impress them, and my money and status don’t impress them, what _will_ impress them?”

“How about just being yourself?” Seiuchin chuckled. 

“Nah, that won’t work,” said Kid. “I mean, Mantaro is great and all, but he sure ain’t no looker and he’s got a lot to learn about wooing the ladies! I think the last gal who went on a date with him only did it ‘cause she thought she was being paid . . . they’re just shallow mares.”

“So he just waits for someone who appreciates him,” added Gazelleman.

“No one’s going to appreciate me, though, are they?” Mantaro groaned. “I kind of thought maybe Rinko might be into me, but she seems like she’s into Jade and I’m just a friend or something, and I don’t mind being her friend, but . . . what if _no one_ likes me? Even you guys didn’t like me when we first met, and sometimes . . . sometimes _I_ don’t like me.”

A low sigh tumbled from his lips. The others swapped looks, even as Kid held him a little closer and Seiuchin used a free hand to squeeze his upper arm, and they stopped just outside a _pachinko_ parlour, where an aspiring idol band sang in the far corner. The clatter and buzz from the machines screeched out all around them, where it muffled the conversation and brought a sharp ache to his ears, and Mantaro caught a snippet of a song on a radio . . . Seiko Matsuda, maybe? It merged with all the other sounds and was soon drowned out. Seiuchin offered:

“Why don’t we go for karaoke?”

“Yeah,” chirped Gazelleman. “That’ll cheer you up, pal! I hear there’s a new vegetarian joint across the way, too, but they’re branching out to meat-eaters. The tofu-steak they do has beetroot and food-colouring, so – if you have it ‘rare’ – it’ll even bleed like regular steak.”

“Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Yeah,” added Kid. “Why not just have the real thing, in that case?”

They bickered and gossiped as they walked. Mantaro remained in the middle . . . _thoughts of compensated dating crossed his mind again, thoughts of maybe a hostess club_ . . . he shook his head and screwed shut his eyes, as he forced the idea out of his mind. No matter how lonely the world may become, he knew that he could only be with someone that wanted to be with him just as much in return. He took in a deep breath. He forced a smile that broke across his mask, while he stood up straight and slapped Seiuchin and Kid on their backs. He made to speak, but someone cut him off with a passionate cry that cut through the crowds:

“Mantaro, it’s you!”

Mantaro raised an eyebrow, as he searched the crowd with a low hum. He spotted someone in the distance . . . a man with long blond hair and white markings on his chest . . . there was no mistaking him as a _chojin_ of sorts, but he was clad only in black trousers. A blush swept over Mantaro’s cheeks, as he fixed his gaze on the muscled pectoral muscles and firm stomach, but – no sooner did his eyes focus – the man bounded towards him with full speed.

He was swept up into a warm embrace. No words were said, as he was swung awkwardly around and dropped back onto the sidewalk. The hug was warm and affectionate, something more like what Seiuchin or Uncle Ataru would give . . . no distance, no uncertainty . . . just warmth and genuine excitement and strong arms around him. Mantaro stumbled back. Kid dove before him, providing him with an instant shield in case of a ‘crazed fan’, and Mantaro had to look around him to look the man in the eyes. He furrowed his brow and asked in a friendly tone:

“Er, do I know you, Mister?”

The smile died. The man dropped his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, until Mantaro cocked his head to the side and scratched the side of his head. Around them, the pedestrians stared and whispered and pointed. Mantaro ran a hand over his head, before clasping his hands behind his neck, and stepped around Kid to look the man in his eyes with a smile, while he swayed on his heels backwards and forwards. The man reached towards his face with a gloved hand, but – with a loud ‘oh’ – quickly pulled away and clasped his hands to his chest.

“I’m – ah – a huge fan,” said the man.

“Aw, if only he were ten years younger and a chick,” teased Kid.

“Shut up!” Mantaro blushed. “I mean, just because he’s not a girl doesn’t matter, right? Like, you can really like chocolate ice-cream, but if someone offered you a huge sundae drenched in toppings and sparklers . . . well, you’d not say no, right? Aw, man. I could go for a sundae about now! Can we _not_ get that icky dairy-free stuff again, though?”

“There’s a place around the corner,” continued the man. “Next to the sushi joint? It’s your favourite! Look, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a nerd . . . I’ve been collecting wrestling memorabilia since the late eighties, and I’ve been following your career since you defeated Bone Killer!”

“Er, do you w-want an autograph?”

“That’s got t’ be the first time I’ve known that to happen,” teased Kid.

The man smiled and fiddled about his waist. He pulled out a small book, which he flicked through with a rapid speed in search of a fresh page . . . _Robin Mask, Ramenman, Buffaloman, Neptuneman . . . Kinnikuman . . . _Mantaro dropped his jaw, as he saw autographs from people that even full-fledged wrestlers would be lucky to meet. He politely took the extended pen and signed a fresh page with a polite message. The man shoved his book back with a blush, before he took off at full speed and seemingly fresh tears breeding in his eyes, as he shouted:

“I better let you guys get on with your night!”

“Wait!” Mantaro shouted: “Who told you about that ice-cream parlour?”

Mantaro waved, as the man stopped at the end of the street. He stood out as the one _chojin_ among the crowd of humans, especially shirtless and middle-aged, and yet there was a kindness about his face . . . lines of laughter, lines of pain . . . Mantaro took an instinctive step forward. A laugh echoed out from the man, who took a sharp turn and disappeared from sight. The words _‘it’s your favourite_’ echoed about his mind, but then he heard someone shout:

“You told me, Mantaro!”

* * *

_‘I heard a theory that time-travel results in multiple timelines.’_

_Mari poured the tea with a smile. The classroom was empty. It was always eerie to be within a kindergarten after hours, particularly with the large glass windows reflecting back the interior, and every glance “outside” only showed his mirror image staring back with a frown. A few scars adorned his body, but the dirt was replaced by a thin sheen of water. The dressing gown about his body was pink and fluffy, while the slippers on his feet were far too small. _

_The whirring of the washing machine echoed out . . . _“I found a washing machine is a godsend with young children, as they can be prone to accidents” . . . _a steaming bowl of soup sat before him, with cloud billowing upward in strange shapes. The tea sat just beside with a rich scent. He felt his mouth water and his stomach growl, and – with the appetite of a man fresh from a grave – lifted the soup to his lips and drank straight from the bowl. He stopped only for a heaving gasp of breath, as he put the bowl back down and wiped his mouth with his hand. Chaos asked:_

_‘So what’s that mean, Sis?’_

_‘It means that – at the moment Mantaro came to the past – time fractured.’ Mari hummed. ‘It created two parallel timelines, and thus we also have two alternate futures. The Mantaro that you loved, and to whom you made love, returned to _his_ future and resumed a normal life. The Mantaro in this timeline, who has yet to be born, will live a different life . . .’_

_‘I don’t see how, right? The bulbs brought Ramenman back to life, so he could still teach Mantaro, and wouldn’t Jade still win and lose the same fights, even if he’s using a leg in place of an arm? What if _bits_ change, but the major stuff remains fixed in place?’_

_‘Do you mean like fate?’_

_‘Yeah, like . . . like . . . do you have a pen and paper?’_

_Chaos sipped from the bowl again in one hand. Mari walked to the children’s drawers, and from the “art drawer” removed paper and crayons. They were placed on the table before him, after which she took the empty bowl back to the sink, and – busying herself putting the wet clothes into the drier – Chaos drew a clear shape on the paper. It was a diamond drawn in two halves; one blue and one green. At opposite ends of the diamond, two lines extended; one blue, and one red. On the blue line he drew the number “1” and the red line he drew a “2”. _

_Mari came back and sat on the chair beside him, while she sipped at her beverage. The warmth from her body was a small comfort after his long walk to the kindergarten . . . _brambles underfoot, harsh lights of cars in his eyes, icy cold wind . . . _still, it was far from the constant touches of Mantaro. He sighed and sipped at his tea in turn, even as he kept the crayons in his left hand and rolled them continuously with an odd rhythm. He whispered:_

_‘What if time always fixes itself?’_

_‘Go on,’ urged Ms Mari._

_‘Isn’t it entirely possible to create a stable time-loop?’ Chaos smiled. ‘If the big events remain fixed in place, and the Time Chojin – who’d still be born and still exist in our timeline – attempt the same thing, perhaps believing they can do things better based on what they know about the events of the Dream Tag Tournament that went down in history . . .’_

_‘Mantaro would go back into the past again.’_

_‘Right! And the Dream Tag Tournament would happen again, but with tiny variations and the future would shift a tiny amount, too. Eventually, after so many loops, things sync up enough that nothing changes and the same thing happens each time and time stabilises. The only I don’t know is which timeline this is, because it’d be like living it for the first time, but it means –’_

_‘It means that when _our_ Mantaro goes back to his future –’_

_‘It’ll also be _our_ future!’ Chaos laughed. ‘It might be that Kinnikuman tells him stories about me, and he’ll grow up a little bit different, but – once the Time Chojin come – he’ll have met me and he’ll go back to what will then be the present and he’ll remember me! He’ll remember!’_

_‘But he won’t even be born for two more decades, and then he’ll –’_

_‘He’ll have to grow up and remember, yeah, but he _will_ remember. That’s the point!’_

_He traced the blue line around the diamond, until it reached the red line, and – carrying on – the line soon became green . . . copying the gesture with the red crayon turned the entire diamond green, as if the original differences never existed. Chaos lifted the paper high. He laughed. A part of him prayed that his bedroom at the orphanage was unchanged, as he would need clothes and books to start a new life . . . his autograph book and scrapbook, in particular, held memories of the past few weeks months spent with the New Generation. Tears pricked at his eyes._

_‘I’ll wait decades if I need to,’ said Chaos._

_Mari touched at his shoulder. The skin was soft and warm, a far cry from the calluses and scars that marked the flesh of Mantaro, and her thumb moved in circles across where pink fabric met the nape of his neck. A few tears distorted her eyes, until they fell down rosy cheeks. The lump in his throat finally grew too much. He swallowed it back. The classroom grew blurred as his tears fell in turn, while he rubbed at his leaking nose and trembling lips, and soon he wept into his hands, as his chest ached and bile burned at the back of his throat. _

_She held him. It was a chaste and platonic embrace. He clung to her nightgown with tight fists and sobbed against her shoulder. Every rise and fall of her chest was heavy and broken, as her cries mingled with his in a sad tune. His racing heart echoed about the room, until – after what felt like hours – he was able to pull away and fall still. The drier dinged to say that his clothes were finally dry, enough that he would be able to walk back to the orphanage. Mari whispered:_

_‘I know what it’s like to wait, Chaos. It’s the worst kind of pain . . .’_

_‘I know, but there’s no one else for me, Sis.’_

_‘I just don’t want to see you repeat my mistakes, that’s all.’ Mari sighed. ‘There’s nothing worse than to love someone that you can’t have and who can’t love you back, and to spend the best years of your life with this hole in your heart and knowing nothing can fill it.’_

_Mari walked away. He sat still and silent at the table, until she came back with his clothes neatly folded and offered to return to her apartment upstairs, so that he could change alone and keep his modesty intact, but . . . atop the warm clothes . . . a photograph sat prominent. It was Mantaro and Chaos. They hugged one another, while punching the air with obvious joy, and a tear rolled Chaos’ cheek, as he held the photograph to his chest. Mari pleaded:_

_‘Just promise me you’ll think about it, Chaos.’_

* * *

Mantaro sat on the windowsill. The blankets were heavy over his reclining form, with delicious warmth that seemed to move with him whenever he turned, and – even as his joints groaned and scrapes ached – the bright lights of the bedroom suite provided a comfort. The wall opposite was covered with trophies and medals . . . no longer were there posters of scantily clad women rock bands, but instead a record of all his accomplishments to date . . . he was almost a man.

A large framed photograph stood centre of the wall.

It showed him on graduation with his parents on either side, while – all around – smaller photographs showcased the most important people in his life . . . _Kid, Seiuchin and Gazelle taken on a night out after karaoke . . . Rinko and Jacqueline hugging him after a big win . . . _Mantaro cast his gaze after photo after photo. There was still something amiss. A gap between the dozens of framed photographs was marked with a small hook, ready for something to be placed there, and yet nothing felt _right_. Mantaro scowled and curled up on his side.

The bedroom door creaked open. There was a scent of a fresh beef bowl, while footsteps slowly came around the sides of the four-poster bed, and – as the bowl was placed on a bedside table with a small clatter – Mantaro closed his eyes, hoping Thomas or Mayumi would believe him asleep after the strenuous final of the horrific tournament. They sat beside him. The mattress dipped, as a rough hand stroked back a lock of sweat-soaked hair with a chuckle.

“You’re alive . . .”

His eyes shot wide open. The man before him was dressed in old-school wrestling attire, with only boots and barely-there shorts, and his hair was so long and while that even Kevin would be jealous, as it cascaded down his back and acted as the only form of coverage. Mantaro pulled himself into an upright sitting position. He winced. A sharp pain shot down the nerves of his left arm, but the two guards on either side of the door showed no sign of movement. _Guards_. It meant this was far from a random intruder, but someone his father and grandfather knew about.

“Who’re you?” Mantaro asked. “You’re like my guardian angel or something.”

The man was familiar . . . someone always in the crowds, someone always cheering him on . . . Mantaro frowned and scratched at the back of his neck, while the man plumped up the pillows behind him and offered him the beef bowl with a big grin. Mantaro eased himself back, while his blue eyes darted between man and guards. There was no way this was a doctor. If it was a family friend, why had he never met him officially before now? Mantaro took the beef bowl and ate a few small bites, while locking eyes with the man, and the man only widened his smile.

“I – I forgot about timelines,” confessed the man. “I thought – for a really horrible moment – I’d lost you before I’d even found you again . . . the Demon Seed were maybe your toughest challenge yet, and I can’t imagine what it was like to climb that tower . . . to see your friend die right before you . . . I felt so guilty seeing that, but I forgot you don’t remember . . .”

“Remember what? I remember how Kevin died!”

“But you don’t remember when _I_ died, do you?” The man sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “Your dad didn’t want to let me in at first, said you’d be too confused, but I asked him what he’d do if it was Terryman who was hurt . . . if your other half is in pain, you’re in pain, too, right? I mean, I know it’s not the same. Terryman is just his friend and all, but equally –”

“Wait, slow down, pal! You’re acting like we’re friends or lovers or something, which is way weird when I only know you as the guy I’m _probably_ taking out a restraining order on. I don’t even know your name! Do you even _have_ a name? What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m . . . I’m Chaos,” said the man.

A shiver ran down Mantaro. The name was familiar . . . like an old lullaby or a half-remembered tale . . . his mouth watered, while he raised his legs and dropped the bowl onto his lap, and – with a nervous smile – adjusted the bowl to hide his growing erection. It was reflexive, like when he saw Jacqueline bend over or when Jade changed before training sessions. A strange image fluttered through his mind, before vanishing in an instant, like a waking dream. Mantaro used his chopsticks to play with his meal, while he bit into his lip and asked in a low voice:

“Do I know that name?”

Chaos winced, as he lowered his head. The skin about his face paled, while his lip trembled as if on the verge of tears, and Mantaro opened his mouth with an apology, only to choke on the half-chewed food until Chaos was forced to slap his back. A spray of food unattractively struck the blanket over his legs, which he smacked off with a lazy wave of his hand. Chaos chuckled. A strange silence fell between them, broken only by a low cough from a guard, and Chaos swung his legs onto the bed to sit directly beside him. Mantaro frowned, as Chaos asked:

“What do you know about the Dream Tag Tournament?”

“Huh?” Mantaro furrowed his brow. “Everyone knows about that! My dad fought with Terryman, and they totally won the competition and stuff, but then these guys – from the future – came down and messed shit up, so Harabote called the Ultimate Tag Tournament. It was pretty cool, but then they said that I won with Kevin Mask or something? Ha! Yeah, right . . .”

Mantaro rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“I’d rather die than tag-team with that loser . . . outside of when I _had_ to team up with him, but last time doesn’t count! Anyway, wasn’t he in like a coma or something? Harabote and Grandpa and Meat messed with all the history books and stuff, said something about how knowing about history would alter history and allowing for a stable time-loop? I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I was a friend of yours back in the past.” Chaos blushed. “I was there for every one of your matches, even the ones with the man whose name was written out of history, and I never ever forgot you . . . not even when I started to grow old and became . . . well . . .”

“Middle-aged? You’re not _as_ _old_ as my pops.”

“But still older than your other friends.”

Chaos chuckled. He reached into the side of his boot, where he took out a small square of paper, and – in faded colours, both crumpled and creased – the image grew clearer to his vision, as Chaos flipped it over and handed it to Mantaro. It was still warm to the touch, where it pressed against bare flesh. Mantaro smiled. It was a photograph, where Mantaro saw himself looking a tiny bit older and little more beat up, and beside him was an all too familiar sight . . .

The man beside him was a much younger Chaos. _He was handsome_. Mantaro squirmed and fidgeted with the bowl on his lap, while he glanced between the present man and the past boy, and there was a clear resemblance, even if the boy on the image clearly preferred to wear more layers and bore thick trousers. Chaos was still attractive, but there were lines in the corners of his eyes and a couple of stray grey hairs, and he was perhaps closer to Geronimo in age than anyone Mantaro knew from the Hercules Factory. Mantaro smiled and chirped:

“You – You were pretty hot, huh?”

Chaos laughed and scratched at his neck. It gave him the aura of one still young, like the spirit remained the same through the decades even as the body aged, and it brought back memories of seeing his father socialising with old friends . . . _reverting to old speech patterns, gossiping about the past as if it were still present, acting without the pressure of etiquette . . . _Mantaro traced a fingertip over the image, while he hummed. It was definitely him, but it was him from the future. He tilted his head to the left and flipped the image over to see ‘1983’ scrawled on the back.

“It’s the only photograph that exists,” confessed Chaos. “The newspapers were destroyed, and the press has a gagging order on them, and this was before digital photography and the Internet, so it wasn’t really able to get spread about . . . only the bare basics of the tournament were shared in the history books. One day, the Time Chojin will come and we’ll meet again.”

“If we were friends then, can’t we be friends now, too?”

“I loved Mantaro with all of my heart, but we were the same age and shared the same experiences and lived together – for a short while – as equals . . . you aren’t my Mantaro, at least not yet, and I don’t want to risk telling you things that might alter how you act, breaking the time-loops and fracturing all of reality in some manner. Plus, you know . . .”

“I know what? Come on, tell me, dude!”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, as we aren’t equals yet. I know _much_ more than you, which means I have you at a disadvantage, and people could easily say that I was using that to groom you or manipulate you or – . . . look, when you get your memories back -? Come find me, okay? I run an orphanage just outside the city, you’ll know where it is, I promise.”

Chaos raised a hand to fist-bump. It was a gesture common among the Idol Chojin, especially between Robin and Suguru, and Mantaro – out of instinct – lifted his hand and returned the gesture, smiling when Chaos pulled back with an open palm and a ‘boom’ sound. Chaos swung his legs around the side of the bed, before planting them down on the rich carpet. He cricked his back when he stood. Mantaro ran his eyes over the perfect six-pack and blond trail, where it disappeared under the low-riding shorts that made his mouth water. Mantaro asked:

“You swear I’ll remember we’ll meet again?”

_Silence_. The joy seemed to sweep from Chaos, as it was replaced with something different . . . something deeper, harder to place . . . the smile was still there, but his shoulders fell and colour drained from his cheeks, even as his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. It was far from sadness, with the tears being . . . different. Mantaro tried to climb out of bed, but Chaos was instantly upon him and tucked him in tight pulls of the blanket. It was as if he was saying: _‘stay, don’t follow, not yet’_. When he pulled back, he spoke so low that the words were nearly lost:

“I waited nearly thirty years to see you again . . .”

“So I can wait a few more to see you?”

Mantaro poked at the beef bowl, while he held the photograph in his free hand. He blushed. It was a side of his sexuality rarely acknowledged, but if he had to be with a guy . . . Chaos could easily have been that person. Mantaro opened his mouth to say goodbye, but – no sooner had he raised his head – had Chaos darted out of the bedroom with the guards behind. Mantaro held the photograph to his chest with a soft laughed, as he shook his head. 

“I’ll see you soon, bro,” swore Mantaro.

* * *

_Rinko giggled, as she ran around the playground. The small brown pigtails bobbed up and down, as she climbed the slide with cries of ‘mama, mama, mama’, and – as she ran – Mari would wave wildly from the picnic table and shout back words of encouragement. A few clouds drifted over the sun, casting a cool shade over the suburban park. In the distance, a group of boys cheered and laughed as they dug up worms from the soft soil. It was peaceful. _

_The breeze caught at Chaos’ scrapbook. A fluttering of pages threatened to break his progress, until he used a ragdoll of Rinko’s to keep the pages in place. He finished applying the paste to the back of his newspaper cutting, which he expertly glued onto the page with a bright smile, beside a few stray photographs and ticket stubs. This one chronicled Mantaro’s first public appearance, a couple pages before held articles about his birth and the masking ceremony, and Chaos – with a sigh – closed the book and cricked his neck, as he rested his head on his hand._

_‘Is everything okay, Chaos?’ Mari asked. _

_He cast his eyes to Rinko. A few brown marks dirtied her knees, as she crawled along the floor while making roaring noises, and – as another child came closer – she pointed towards them and loudly shouted a challenge to a fight, copying something heard from a wrestling match. Chaos laughed behind his hand, as the child’s mother swooped in and carried them far away. The smile soon faded from his face. It brought bile to his throat, as he struggled to reconcile the fellow teenager he met was one and the same with the child he helped raise. He shuddered. _

_‘I was thinking of running the orphanage,’ said Chaos._

_‘Oh, what’s bought this on?’_

_He ran his hands over the closed scrapbook. The cool leather grounded him. He thought back over the past two decades . . . awakening to find his friends returned to the future, struggling to accept his identity as a chojin in a prejudiced world, defending Japan alone against an invasion of evil chojin . . . a soft sigh escaped him. Now the New Generation were being born. It was Kevin first, followed by many others, and each time there was that familiar stab in his chest . . . knowing and not knowing, wanting and not wanting . . . and now there was another loss._

_‘Mother is dying,’ whispered Chaos. _

_‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’_

_‘No, it’s to be expected.’ Chaos shrugged. ‘I guess it’s just hitting me hard, as first I got back all the memories of my parents . . . then I died . . . then I lost Mantaro . . . now Mother – my only parental figure and someone I love so much -?’ He shook his head. ‘I feel like I’m losing everything, but I don’t know what’s left or what this even makes me, you know?’_

_‘I understand. I can honestly say that life hasn’t been as hard on me, but I know what it feels like for time to move forward and to feel like you’re being left behind, and that loneliness and isolation and feeling like you’ll never catch up . . . never be like the others.’_

_‘Yeah, but the orphanage -? Well, it’s where my life began. It’s where I learned who I truly was, where I learned the true meaning of friendship, where I had a real family . . . I keep thinking that maybe the orphanage is my anchor, like the one thing keeping me going in life . . . _

_‘I want to honour Mother and carry on her memory. I know she worries about the children, so this way I can pay her back by looking after them, and – honestly – I’m starting to feel really weird here with you and Rinko. I mean, I had a _crush_ on Rinko! Every time I look at her, I just feel gross and icky, because I’m like her uncle, but I _wasn’t_ her uncle then, and I –’_

_He buried his face into his hand. The sun returned and warmed his back, while he drew in slow and deep breaths and tried to forget how he treated Rinko in the past . . . tried to forget the things he did with Mantaro, when the Mantaro of this timeline was only just starting schooling . . . Chaos bit into his lip until he tasted iron. Mari pulled the remains of the newspaper across the table, where she turned the half-remaining page to skim an article on Suguru’s latest international trade deal with a smile. He dropped his hands. _

_‘Rinko thinks we’re dating,’ said Mari._

_A blush darkened his cheeks. He widened his eyes, as he looked Mari over. It would be foolish to deny that she was attractive, but she would forever be his older sister, and the idea of so much as holding hand – let alone seeing her in a state of undress – killed any arousal that he may have felt had she been any other attractive woman. Chaos scratched at the back of his head, while Rinko ran over and dove onto the bench beside him. He instinctively reached for the juice-box, handed it to her, and patted her on the head without even a glance. _

_‘I have thought about asking you out,’ confessed Chaos. _

_‘I thought about asking you, too.’ Mari sighed. ‘We’ve become such good friends, and we both want the same things from life and could raise Rinko together. Still, even though I know it’s impossible, my heart belongs to someone else, and you deserve better than to be . . .’_

_‘Someone’s second-choice? Yeah, you too.’_

_‘Yeah, me too . . .’_

_They sat in an awkward silence, just two people in love with people they could never possess. He locked eyes with Mari, as if both shared the same thought: _“can we make this work”? _A lifetime content was not the same as a lifetime happy, but surely it would have been better than the yearning and emptiness and desire? A part of Chaos said: no. He would rather spend a lifetime miserable than betray the love who still possessed his heart, and his hand rubbed circles at his chest, while he gnawed at his lip and fought to find the right words. He whispered:_

_‘You’ll still visit the orphanage and volunteer, right?’_

_‘Every Thursday. It can be _our_ day.’_

_Mari offered her pinkie finger. He laughed and took it in his. They jerked their hands in a “promise” motion, before they parted with laughter and tears. Chaos mussed Rinko’s hair, while placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, and – as he promised to always be there for her – she cocked her head with a furrowed brow and pursed lips, as if confused by his words. He looked back to Mari and sniffed back his tears, as a bright smile swept over him. _

_‘Deal,’ swore Chaos._

* * *

“It’s all real,” whispered Mantaro.

He stared at the time-ship. It was near completion, with its sheer size dominating the cityscape, and – across the river – crowds of people gathered to protest the confiscation of beloved national buildings, while press filmed the ongoing construction. Mantaro reached inside his pocket, where he brought out the photograph gifted to him. It showed him almost as he stood now, beside the handsome boy named ‘Chaos’, and he could not help but wonder how they might meet . . .

Kid threw an arm around Mantaro, as the various chojin busied about the construction site. In a matter of hours, they would be travelling through time itself to a time before they were born, and Mantaro – with an audible swallow – cast his eyes upward, where the sun burned onto his retinas and the shifting clouds provided little comfort. Kid jostled him. He sighed and shrugged, while Kid took the photograph and raised it high above them. The paper blotted out the sun, while providing a beautiful illumination to both Chaos and Mantaro in the image. Kid exclaimed:

“I can’t believe all the rumours are true.”

“Yeah,” said Mantaro.

“My papa ain’t tellin’ me anything,” said Kid. “He says he don’t want t’ mess with history, so we just got to do things for ourselves, but . . . ain’t it said I teamed up with Robin? Why’d I do a crazy thing like that? Plus, who even is that guy in your photograph?”

Mantaro bit his lip and shook his head. Could Chaos be his tag partner? Could Chaos be an enemy turned ally, like so many chojin of the past? Could he be a lover or friend or a random fan? He took the photograph back from Kid, while he ran his fingertips over the image of Chaos and heaved a long sigh. The photograph would probably not survive much longer, let alone a matter of years, and so he could only pray he remembered to take more. Mantaro murmured:

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

* * *

_It was quiet in the orphanage. Mari served dinner in the small kitchen, where most of the children crowded around the tables to watch the new flat-screen television, one of the few donations from the Christmas drive across the nation. Chaos caught snippets of Japanese. A few complaints about the chojin and a lot of speculation. It blended in seamlessly to the song played at the piano, as he hit the keys with far less skill than Mother or Mari._

_He cast his longer fingers over the keys, while he glanced upward. The _kinkeshi_ collection lined a long shelve that lined the entire upper part of the lounger, while a display cabinet in the corner held the most “treasured” item of every boy and girl for display . . . a poster from the latest video game, a Blu-Ray of a cartoon show . . . Chaos’ item was a figure of Mantaro, bought during the peak of his popularity among wrestling fans. He chuckled and continued to play, even when his fingers grew numb and his wrist began to ache. A boy ran into the lounge. _

_The boy reminded him of Genta. He wore a bright smile, while still dressed in his school uniform and sporting a bruise on his eye, and Chaos winced to remember his talk from one of the nuns . . . _“you can’t keep romanticising wrestling to them, as they’re copying in the classroom”. _He stopped playing and closed the lid of the piano, before he turned with a big smile on the stool and leaned down to be more on the boy’s level. The boy shouted out:_

_‘Brother, the time-ship on television went away!’_

_Chaos cried. The tears streamed down his face, even before his mind caught up with his heart, and – with a trembling hand – he covered his mouth to hide his laughter, as a multitude of emotions collided in his chest with a heavy blow. He slid onto the floor. Chaos placed his hands on both of the boy’s shoulders, where he squeezed with an affectionate hold. The boy tilted his head, while the cheers from inside the kitchen echoed out ever louder and Chaos chirped out:_

_‘That’s okay. I know they’ll be back.’_

* * *

Mantaro raced from the time-ship . . .

The crowds were wild. The screams and shouts and cheers deafened him, as he stumbled down the gangway and tumbled onto solid land. A few banners fluttered in the breeze, where he caught sight of familiar names . . . _‘We Love You, Kid’, ‘Welcome Home, Mantaro’ . . . _one placard had a photograph of Kevin and Mantaro embracing after the final match. Did one of the Legends save some photographs? Did they wait until this moment to release them to the public?

At the barricades, their families and friends waited.

Tamaki and Keiko waved wildly towards Rinko, with Gazelleman just beside them. Suzie and Dorothy stood with a basket of fresh fish, while – off to the sidelines – Mantaro was almost sure that he caught sight of Sunshine . . . Terryman and Natsuko practically ran to the gangway, while Robin Mask followed behind them at a slow pace . . . everyone was there. The press took photograph after photograph, while reporters loudly chattered away to the cameras.

Not far from the official stands, where Harabote sat behind his desk, Mantaro saw familiar a set of familiar faces . . . Mayumi sitting with his trembling hands on an old cane, with Ataru standing slightly to the side with arms folded, and Suguru and Bibimba half-knelt with arms outstretched towards him. They wanted him to run to them. They wanted to hug him. He winced and slowly walked towards them, as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and – as he walked – he cast his eyes over the crowds for that one face . . . the one he needed to see . . .

“Mantaro, my boy,” shouted Suguru. “Can you forgive me?”

Mantaro shook his head. He broke out of his thoughts, as he picked up pace. Suguru and Bibimba threw themselves at him, with their hands running over his face and limbs, while Ataru muttered for them to cease babying him and give him some space . . . _‘I forgot Lightning got you here’, ‘you need to let us apply some gauze’, ‘did you always have this scar?’_ . . . Mantaro laughed, as he hugged them both in turn. They kissed at his cheeks and ruffled his hair, before forcing him into a first-aid tent and sitting him down on a soft chair.

Bibimba gently cleaned his left arm, while Suguru bandaged his right arm. They poked and prodded at every inch of skin, until Mantaro swatted their hands away, and a loud huff of breath escaped his flared nostrils. They sat on either side of him, even as they babbled endlessly about the tournament . . . already time had tweaked the memories, turning them into something different than reality, and he smiled at how the decades changed perceptions.

“You challenged me to a _death-match_,” said Mantaro.

“I – ah – I know, son, but I –”

“I know. I get it, Pops.” Mantaro smiled. “I’m kind of glad I went back in time; I always just took it for granted that you were my goofy dad, but you were so much more than that! You were brave and relentless and so freaking strong. It made me appreciate you guys so much more, especially seeing how much Robin wanted Kevin and how much Mom loved you . . .”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’, Mantaro,” teased Bibimba.

“Well, I love you guys so much, but I kind of . . . I kind of hoped that Chaos would be the first face I’d see, you know? I first saw that guy in the ring, but all in disguise, and I never even thought for a second that it’d be him, and then he took off his disguise and -! I just knew . . . I _knew_ it was the guy I was destined to fight with and the guy who’d become my friend, but . . .

“He wasn’t just my friend, was he? I loved him, Momma! He understood me like no one else understood me, and he respected me like no one ever respects me, and he was comfortable enough to stand up to me when he needed to stand up to me . . . he always spoke his mind, he shared with me his interests . . . he was passionate, intelligent, selfless . . . he was everything that I wanted to be and everything that I needed in my life. I fell for him.

“In the ring, our two hearts beat as one! I know now he’s had like thirty years on me . . . maybe that’s too much life experience to overcome, and maybe he’ll want different things from me, because I’m still growing and finding myself, but he’s at an age to settle down. I don’t know, maybe we’d only ever be able to be friends, but I still love him . . . I need to see him!”

Mantaro buried his face into his hands. A dark blush swept over his cheeks, while a low groan broke its way out of his throat, and – somewhere outside – Warsman was being rushed to a nearby first-aid tent, while Kevin chased alongside him with panicked questions. Bibimba gently lifted his head. The outside noises faded away, as she locked eyes with him and pried away his hands from his cheeks. She cupped his face. A soft kiss was planted to the crown of his head, as she knelt down in front of him, and squeezed at his knee. He smiled.

“Go to him, Mantaro,” whispered Bibimba.

He blinked. He opened his mouth to speak. Bibimba pressed a finger to his lips, as she chuckled and shook her head, and Suguru threw an arm around him, before he laughed aloud: _‘it’s fine, son’_. There was no judgement. There were no questions, no comments . . . there was only two parents comforting their son after a traumatic ordeal. The tears spilled from his eyes and over his cheeks, until he tasted them warm and salty on his lips, and he laughed . . . he laughed, even as he rubbed at his nose with his sleeve and choked out in a broken voice:

“You mean that, Momma?”

“I don’t know if this will last,” confessed Bibimba. “You’re from two different planets. You’re from two different social classes, grew up in two different decades . . . still, he was your first love. That’s something special. Even if you move on to be with other people, this is a friendship that could last a lifetime and be something far closer than you imagined.”

“Yeah, I know we’ll always be friends, no matter what. Even if we can’t be together like as lovers, I know just being able to see his face . . . hear his voice . . . it’ll be enough. I never got to say goodbye to him, but now I think that’s because I knew one day . . .”

“You’d be able to say ‘hello’ all over again.”

Bibimba kissed at his forehead again. Suguru stood to move back to the front of the tent, where he pulled back the ‘doors’ to reveal the crowds, and – far beyond – the cityscape of Tokyo was clear even through the hustle-and-bustle of the departing chojin. The orphanage would be where Chaos waited . . . likely running it alongside Mother, possibly with a family of his own . . . Mantaro rubbed at his chest in low circles, as a smile crept over his face. Suguru nodded low and deep, before he pointed out to the woods not far from sight. He whispered:

“Go to him, Mantaro.”

It was the only permission he needed. Mantaro ran. He pushed past Suguru, and ignored the cries of his grandfather and uncle, as he raced into the crowd. There was a constant jostle of touches and please for autographs and requests for autographs, until he was able to break free and find access to the main road, and – with a racing heart – he scoured his mind to remember directions to the orphanage. The roads had changed. The layout of the city was different.

He ran until his legs ached . . .

* * *

_Chaos creaked open the door. The dormitory was pitch-black, save for a night-light beside one nun who always slept among the children as a chaperone, and the soft glow illuminated the few peaceful faces closest to her, as she let loose soft snores. He clicked closed the door, before sneaking back downstairs through the shadows. The front door was still open, letting inside a cool breeze, and he headed outside with a large stretch and a yawn._

_A scrapbook sat not far on the garden-table; a variety of newspapers sat scattered around, with various parts removed and ready to be pasted onto fresh paper, and the headlines still brought a smile to his lips as his eyes ran over the bolded words. The scrapbook was fit to burst, with the spine nearly bent in two, and the final page was marked with a simple article: Time Travel Eight Return Home. Chaos gently closed the book. The smile faded, as his fingers trembled on the cool leather. A part of him wondered where things went from here . . . what happened next . . . _

_A low cough echoed out by the main gates. _

_He turned to chastise whoever was avoiding curfew, only to see a familiar face hiding in an alcove of the wall . . . someone covered in cuts and bruises and gashes, someone in a torn and dirty uniform fresh out of battle . . . someone that brought him to his knees. Tears ran down his cheeks. He drew in deep and heaving gasps for air, as laughter combined with his sobs. He reached out with a trembling hand. Mantaro. This was Mantaro! Chaos rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, while he shook his head and tried to clear his vision . . . _

_‘Mantaro,’ whispered Chaos. ‘I figured that you must have done the same things, because my memories are the same . . . I still remember how we met, how we fought together in the ring, how we made love for the first time . . . I – I never thought it’d be the last time.’_

_There were tears in Mantaro’s eyes. It was difficult to see through his own, especially as spots and colours and shapes distorted his vision with an encroaching panic attack, and his hands – still clinging to the old habit – scrambled for his inhaler, until he forced slow and deep breaths to remain conscious and calm. Mantaro was as handsome as ever. He was now a young man and no longer a child . . . seventeen . . . older than Chaos had been . . . Chaos whispered:_

_‘Sorry, I guess you have a lot to process and –’_

_Mantaro ran to him. He dove onto the floor with great speed, leaving no time for Chaos to react . . . friend or foe, an embrace or an attack . . . he only found time to think when muscular arms threw themselves around his waist, while a chapped and dry pair of lips pressed with brute force against his mouth. Chaos parted his lips with a gasp. A tongue invaded his mouth, bringing back memories of their first night together . . . their first kiss, their first everything . . . _

_A hand buried itself into Chaos’ hair, where it held tight and pulled. Chaos fell backwards onto the dew-stained grass and parted his legs to make way for Mantaro, while the kiss deepened and tongues battled for dominance, and his hands wandered as much as they dared, as he explored every inch of skin and moaned against his lover. He laughed to remember how clumsy Mantaro could be, as teeth clashed or accidental bites nipped at his lips, and he mewled to remember how that had erection felt pressed against his hip. Chaos choked out:_

_‘You still love me?’_

_‘Hey, you think I’d forget you in less than a day?’ Mantaro pulled back and panted. ‘Dude, that’s pretty harsh! You were the guy that had my back, even when you were terrified and had no idea how to fight, and you’re the guy that I trusted with my life, always keeping me in line and watching out for me, even when I maybe didn’t deserve it. You were my Chaos.’_

_‘And you were my heart, always.’_

_‘I just – I can’t believe you stayed faithful all these years. It’s been close to three decades! I came back expecting you to have moved on or found someone else, but then I realised . . . you were waiting for me. You were waiting for me, just like I’d have waited for you.’_

_Chaos sniffed and blinked back tears. He ran his hands over the rough and old rubber of the mask, while he held back the temptation to pull off the fin and gain access to brown locks of hair, and the memory . . . seared into his mind . . . of being the only person alive trusted to feel Mantaro’s face in the dark. The mask may have been replaced before dawn, but the kisses down his chest . . . his stomach . . . encasing his member . . . they were done with exposed lips and bare face. Chaos flushed red, even as Mantaro muttered in a low voice:_

_‘Er, I do have one confession, though.’_

_A low hum escaped Chaos, as Mantaro sat upright astride him. The two pert buttocks rested above his growing erection, but the arousal nearly died as he saw concern writ across that masked face and how Mantaro fidgeted with his fingers like a schoolboy caught after curfew. Mantaro winced. He half-closed his eyes, as his lips pursed and knuckles turned white, and Chaos’ stomach churned in response, as his heart raced afresh. Mantaro said:_

_‘I kind of kicked over your gravestone when we left.’_

_Chaos laughed. He laughed! He threw his arms around Mantaro and rolled them over, until Mantaro was pressed against the grass with a loud yelp, and – kissing him all over his face – Chaos sought to memorise every inch of skin . . . nothing has changed. There were still the goofy expressions, the inherent nervous disposition, the wild passion . . . there was still the young man that he loved, now lying beneath him and finally beside him. Chaos kissed at his ear._

_‘You’re still my Mantaro,’ whispered Chaos. _

* * *

Mantaro panted. A flood of sensations swept over him . . . _pleasure, happiness, relaxation _. . . every nerve was alive and sparked with ecstasy, as his eyes rolled back and his vision vanished with fireworks of colours. The tension in his muscles released, like the strings of a bow. He dropped down onto Chaos. The scent of sweat and sex filled the air, as his heart raced loudly within his ears and every gasp of breath echoed out about the bedroom.

The warmth of Chaos’ still shuddering body was flush against him. The inner walls still fluttered around his deflating erection. Mantaro squirmed to feel a warm liquid sticking together their abdomens, while more leaked out below and dripped onto the torn and sweat-soaked sheets. A cool breeze blew in from under the doorway, catching at their bare skin, and Chaos – with a low chuckle – awkwardly kicked up the sheets to cover their lower bodies. They remained locked together in the most intimate of places, until Mantaro reluctantly pulled outward.

A low hiss escaped Chaos . . . _‘sorry’_ . . . the come and lubrication leaked outward, only to be hidden by the sheets that now were pulled up to their chins, as Chaos pulled Mantaro into a warm embrace and rolled onto his back once more. Mantaro hummed, as he placed dozens of kisses to the throbbing vein along Chaos’ neck. Rough and callused hands ran over every inch of his skin, while Chaos mumbled _‘I love you’_ over and over like a mantra. Mantaro gasped:

“Okay, that was . . . _wow_!”

Chaos laughed. The moonlight streamed through the window, catching at the green of Mantaro’s eyes, and – with a blush – he fumbled around in search for his mask, before lazily pulling it back onto his face and half-tying the strings to keep it vaguely in place. It was all too easy for a child to wander to the doors of nuns and teachers, usually after a bad dream, or for volunteers – like Mari – to knock for advice or support. Chaos stroked at the small of Mantaro’s back, before he pushed back a lock of brown hair with a soft chuckle and gentle kiss.

“You don’t regret this, Mantaro?”

“No, but it felt weird?” Mantaro furrowed his brow. “I was still clearly making love to you, and you still got the same technique and style, but . . . your body is different, and you have a few new moves, so it kind of feels like being with someone different? Only, I guess you _are_ someone different, as you’ve lived so many years without me, and . . . it’s a bit of a mind trip.”

“Trust me, I had that feeling a _lot_ over the years. I had to stop hanging around Mari when Rinko was around for a long while, because it weirded me out too much. I don’t know if you’ll love who I am now, because usually people grow _together_ and not apart, but . . . whatever happens . . . you’ll always be my best friend and I’ll always love you more than anyone. If you’re okay with taking some time to get to know me -? Well, we’ve a lot to catch up on.”

“And I want to hear every single second of what I missed,” swore Mantaro. “I also want to show you what I never got to show you before . . . I want to show you my favourite places back home on Planet Kinniku, and I want you to meet my family as _I_ know them, and I want to go stargazing with you where I can show you my favourite constellations.”

“I’d like that,” whispered Chaos.

Mantaro blushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chaos rolled him slowly onto his back. It was unlike the last two times they made love, and Mantaro made to joke _‘third time is the charm’, _but he fell completely silent as his legs were carefully parted. He was growing erect, even as Chaos’ refractory period left him unable to go further just yet, and still . . . soft kisses worked their way down Mantaro’s collarbone, his nipples, his chest . . . his stomach . . . the heat and intimacy forced him fully erect, as he gasped and buried his hands in Chaos’ hair.

“I’ll never leave you again,” promised Mantaro.

“I’ll love you always,” swore Chaos.

The mouth devoured him whole. Mantaro bit into the crook of his arm to hold back a scream, while the silky insides of those hot cheeks hollowed out, and the long tongue worked its way from the base of his cock right to the very head. It dipped into the slit, where it teased and tasted the weeping pre-come. Mantaro wept. He was a blubbering mess, as his hands gripped ever tighter and his legs parted all the more . . . he wanted every night to be like this night.

* * *

_Sunlight streamed through the windows. They caught at Mantaro, as he slept, giving him a beautiful glow that only added to his otherworldly appeal. Chaos smiled. A tear ran down his cheek, as a rush of emotion burst through him . . . finally, Mantaro was beside him. The small snores brought laughter from his lips, as he remembered how badly Mantaro would snore during their time sharing a room all those years ago . . . nothing had changed . . . _

_Mantaro still sprawled out over the mattress, occasionally talking in his sleep or letting out sounds of flatulence, and he even drooled onto the pillow, much as Chaos remembered. It should have been a turn-off, but he looked so natural and so relaxed . . . Chaos nuzzled closer. He rested his head on a muscular and toned chest, where his ear pressed itself just above Mantaro’s heart, and there he listened to the proof of his lover’s life . . . proof that this man beside him was his and his alone . . . and tears formed as Chaos finally felt happiness for the first time in life . . . _

_Their two hearts beat as one . . . _


End file.
